Mashed up by me from H.R. 1295 text via Congress.gov, Creative Commons photo of White House, and vector graphic of crown
Note: My Apr. 4 blog post—#TeslaTakedown Pt. 1 of 3: Crash course in Elon Musk, the DOGE coup, and resisting same—I published as part one of three. Under my own Douglasian reorganization authority, and to make my own life easier, I hereby declare this post part two of that series. Part three comes—eventually!
On June 4, Rolling Stone published my latest article: Republican bill would legalize DOGE and let Trump dismantle everything: The Reorganizing Government Act is a longshot in the Senate, but that could change—and so would the separation of powers. [Note added July 3: MSN and Yahoo republished it without paywalls.] As usual, I drafted more text than could be squeezed in, so please find below bonus material—mostly concerning statutory presidential reorganization authority’s history and some political philosophy—for the truly autodidactic among ye.
A short history of reorganization authority power struggles
The Reorganizing Government Act of 2025’s House sponsor, Rep. James Comer (R-KY), portrayed his bill during the Mar. 25 House Oversight Committee session as a fairly routine granting of long-gone special powers. “I want to reiterate that between 1932 and 1984,” Comer said, “presidents submitted more than 100 reorganization plans, presidents from Roosevelt to Reagan, used this authority to create or dismantle federal agencies.” While President Reagan did briefly hold Congressionally granted reorganization authority, he didn’t use it to create or dismantle any federal agencies—he didn’t even submit a single reorganization plan to Congress. To give Comer’s Southern drawl the benefit of the doubt, it sounds like he just misplaced the clause “presidents from Roosevelt to Reagan” in his sentence. It should have gone after “between 1932 and 1984″—then it would have been accurate.
Comer also claimed “Presidents Clinton, Bush, and Obama requested renewed and expand[ed] authority” to submit reorganization plans. None of those past presidents obtained the authority, especially because, not to embarrass Comer or anything, Clinton never even asked. At the meeting, no Representative corrected Comer, but the Congressional Research Service report he received unanimous consent to enter into the record, does. (It also explains the accurate Reagan history.)
Clinton in 1993 tasked Al Gore with cutting bureaucratic costs, and in each term, the then-vice president’s National Performance Review pursued that mission. Among the Review’s thousands of pages was indeed the recommendation that the White House seek reorg. authority. But the Clinton administration never took up the idea in earnest, much less formally requested such powers from Congress. Comer’s claim, apparently an attempt to turn such minutiae into a main character to normalize an unprecedented power grab for Trump, is specious.
Back in January, Trump told Congress that DOGE “is headed by Elon Musk”; Musk claimed the austerity team is akin to the concluded National Performance Review, which was a White House-led task force—as DOGE arguably is.
Yet Gore’s crew traveled the country to listen to agency staff and compile their ideas into wonkish suggestions for Congress and Clinton to consider—and faced no serious legal challenges. In contrast, Musk and his 34-timefelon president stand accused, in the AFGE lawsuit, of top-down rogue lawbreaking to dismantle government unilaterally from under the White House cloak of an efficiency task force. In their complaint, the plaintiffs write: “In sum, OMB [Office of Management and Budget], OPM [Office of Personnel Management], and DOGE have usurped agency authority, exceeded their own authority, acted in an arbitrary and capricious manner, and ignored procedural requirements by requiring federal agencies throughout the government” to “Impose cuts to functions and staffing according to ‘targets’ and ‘goals’ imposed by DOGE.”
Musk boasted of his team, “all of our actions are maximally transparent”—yet they tellrequesterssuing for records underthe Freedom of Information Act, No way, even after a federal judge found in March that DOGE is “likely covered by FOIA.”
If the so-called Department of Government Efficiency were actually a cabinet-level department created through Congress, it’d be very subject to FOIA and other obligations. But DOGE’s ‘name’ is a mere label Musk styled after a dog- (or doge-)themed cryptocurrency he’sdeniedowning in a contentous, closed court case. The operatives’ continuing refusal to disclose their names and their literal opacity—papering over windows in a basement conference room—has encouraged accusations, including from Senate Minority Leader Chuck Schumer (D-NY), that the crew of hacker-y twentysomethings is a “shadow government.”
At the Oversight session, Comer ignored or dismissed concerns about DOGE’s doings, painting his bill and the Trump administration as simply cleaning the government up of unnecessary bureaucrats: “We have to have a reorganization of the government—it’s gotten out of hand over the past 4 years! Bureaucracies have grown, bureaucrats have increased in number, and the people taking it on the chin in the federal workforce are the ones who actually do the work at the bottom of the organizational chart. This is a reorganization for them!” (Yeah, sure.)
Curiously, Comer didn’t discuss the first Trump administration’s reorganization authority request. The related Reforming Government Act of 2018 died prior to floor voting. Unlike Comer’s legislation, the Trump 1-erabills expressly forbade plans to ax independent regulatory agencies or all of their statutory programs and would have constrained the presidential powers by limiting them to “consolidation authority.” Like moving a computer file from one directory to another, deleting the former location’s in the process and hoping everything works out with the file in the fresh spot, consolidation authority would have presumably preserved whichever statutory programs’ existence when shifting their position in the org charts.
Consolidation authority similarly made the Trump 1 request less extreme than failed Republican reorg. authority legislation from earlier in the 21st century. President George W. Bush was, like top Trumpers now, pushing maximalist unitary executive theory: flex the presidency by bending or breaking the Constitution. Bush 43 would have obtained statutory reorganization authority—unexpiring—to propose ending departments, independent regulatory agencies, and some/all of either’s statutory programs, but only if his White House deemed the targets intelligence related. Obama’s request for two-year authority, by contrast, would have left independent regulators alone and stayed under consolidation authority for his plan to merge particular executive organizations: he said he’d arrange six of them into a new take on the Commerce Department, eliminating the old one in the process—so he technically needed the power to abolish departments. Republicans feared he wouldn’t stop with the Commerce Department, but that dispute seems minor compared to today’s Trumpian dismantlings: Neither Obama nor Bush 43 were boasting that they were gunning to end the Education Department altogether, as Trump is. And the expansive Reorganizing Government Act of 2025 envisions no consolidation authority constraint for Trump 2, making Comer’s comparison of his bill with Obama’s request bogus.
In hindsight, the Trump 1 effort comes off like a befogged dry run for the Heritage Foundation, much of the brainsbehind it—and behind today’s moreprepared, Project 2025-shaped Trump 2. After all, ideas for reorganization plans that emanated quietly from his relatively inexperienced, disarrayed first administration strangely amalgamized cross-partisan priorites: a smattering of low-profile, quasi-technical moves, among them merging food safety programs; centrist or liberal schemes like spinning off FAA air traffic control into a nonprofit corporation to better procure the latest, best staff and technology with less political interference; and conservative fixations such as prepping the U.S. Postal Service for privatization. That last is a jaw-dropping commonality between the 2018 and 2025 bids. In March, Musk agreed with Trump that the familiar, constitutionally authorized snailmailmen should be delivered to industry, saying, “we should privatize anything that can be[.]”
This most recent of reorg. authority’s three historical phases has seen Congress deny every presidential request for it since the statute last expired in (of all years) 1984.
Sometimes, these 21st-century bids have downplayed their expansive scopes by trading on the authority’s preceding, more widely popular mid-20th-century phase. That’s when Congress, often routinely, blessed most presidential reorg. plans, not infrequently advertised as merely improving the government’s operational mechanics. Reorganizers promised to steer clear of normative beliefs (somehow)—to remain agnostic about what Uncle Sam should do—and instead hyperfocus on tweaking how government operates.
These wonkish middle-phase plans—President Carter’s among them—have been lampooned as nothing more than “boxology”: shuffling agencies around on the org-charts without really fixing anything. Sometimes they have been rather mundane: President Kennedy’s first reorganization plan in 1963 restructured the Franklin D. Roosevelt presidential library with a change-up involving “ten guards, one repairman, and two janitors at a total cost of $87,000 a year.”
Other times, second-phase reorganization authority, largely freeing presidents from lawmakers’ snail-speed deliberations and entrenched dependencies on specific districts and states, facilitated surprising results quickly from a birds-eye view. For example, President Nixon’s third reorganization plan in 1970 created the Environmental Protection Agency, now targeted by DOGE.
Searches for historical evidence of major savings from this better-liked second period—or any period—of presidential reorganization authority will findlittle, aside from some of its uses in winding down World War II. The same report from 2012 that Comer entered into the record states that there have been “few instances in which reorganization plans resulted in documented cost savings.”
Reorganization authority’s earliest phase wasn’t so much about money, but about the first half of the 20th century generating widespread, amped-up hopes that significantly strengthening executive power to advance social goals could lead to sizable restructurings that would help heal the deep, long-lasting traumas of World War I, the Great Depression, and World War II.
The historical analogy isn’t lost entirely even on the unscholarly Donald Trump. He’s repeatedly invoked comparisons between himself and Roosevelt, who during the Great Depression and into the 1940s wielded enormous executive power mainly for very different ends: progressive New Deal social programs and fighting Axis countries instead of Trump’s You’re fired! commands for ever-smaller government and aligning with fascistleaders. Further, whereas Trump’s dismantlings this year have proceeded through a barrage of 150+ executive orders, many legally questionable—some paused by courts pending litigation—Roosevelt revamped government largely by ensuring Congress passed well-crafted, durable legislation.
Vanderbilt political science professor John A. Dearborn, who specializes in power shifts between Congress and presidents, told me that “FDR primarily viewed reorganization authority as a way to make government work more efficiently, and better, rather than simply as a tool to drastically cut back on agencies and functions.” That included a failed 1937 attempt to establish, at the same time as his proposed restructuring legislation would have granted him reorganization authority, a new Department of Public Works and a new Department of Social Welfare.
“Like Trump,” Dearborn said, “FDR was accused of seeking too much power for the presidency. He framed his ambitious reorganization proposal in 1937 as a way to ‘prove to the world that American Government is both democratic and effective’ while authoritarian systems were on the rise abroad. Congress scuttled many of the boldest elements of that plan”—among them not requiring him to seek Congressional review and its lack of an expiration date for his authority (almost always, when Congress extends the preorgative, it’s been on a temporary basis). “Nonetheless,” Dearborn continued, “while the reorganization authority lawmakers granted FDR in 1939 included some important limits on his powers, the law still relied on legislators’ assumption that a president would be uniquely focused on the good of the nation as a whole when formulating and submitting reorganization plans.”
The national culture backing FDR was an enormous facilitator of his reorg. plans and legacy. The culture back then was much more unified than today’s extreme polarization, as illustrated by the song “Why I Like Roosevelt,” originally from the 1940s. It’s embedded below as a 1990s-era recording of the elderly Willie Eason playing guitar in the Sacred Steel tradition and singing.
But another president Trump often mentions, this one trepidatiously, is much less well regarded, particularly due to his tariffs worsening the Great Depression. That’s Herbert Hoover, in 1932 the first president to receive from Congress statutory reorganization authority as presently understood, powers he’d championed as Commerce Secretary in 1924 for his then-boss, President Coolidge. During that year’s relatively mild recession, Commerce Secretary Hoover wrote that the public deserved “little right to complain about our economic situation”—foreshadowing Trump’s own Commerce Secretary, billionaire Howard Lutnick, lecturing this March that if Social Security checks go unsent, it’s “fraudsters” who’d complain, whereas in such dire straits, his elderly relatives would just hope for their next checks in patriotic silence.
Hoover ignored the warning a thousand-plus economists sent him and signed the Smoot-Hawley Tariff Act of 1930 to dramatically hike duties on imports. The Smoot-Hawley Act was a major part of that era’s tariff policy, which Trump said, in his Apr. 2 “Liberation Day” speech, would have stopped the Great Depression had tariffs—Hoover’s among them—been even more aggressive, as his own were: per Fitch Ratings, Trump’s early April effective tariff rate was reaching levels not seen since twenty years prior to 1929’s Black Thursday. His recent tariff de-escalation with China significantly decreased the total effective rate only temporarily and still has investors anxious over yo-yo-ing uncertainties. (On June 3 Trump doubled tariffs on steel and aluminum—from 25% to 50%—which will particularly affect neighbors Canada and México.)
Trump is likewise ignoring the warning of more than 700 economists and other scholars not to “repeat the catastrophic errors of the Smoot-Hawley Tariff of 1930.” Tariffs generally raise prices of imported goods, effectively disrupting manufactural supply chains and taxing consumer demand. In a bankster country that, starting in the later 20th century or so, has compensated for offshoring manufactural production by using the military, the spy-meddlers, Madison Avenue, monetized intellectual property enforcement, and more to manipulate much of the globe into keeping the U.S. dollar the default international currency, it’s particularly perilous to crater the buying power of the planet’s biggest importers at the same time as world leaders are losing faith in dealing with The Donald anyway.
Fears of international de-dollarization—and of saying goodbye to stock market gains and Treasury bonds—among money-capital factions may well undo Trump. In January, the Wall Street Journal Editorial Board called it “The Dumbest Trade War in History,” and even the high school economics teacher in the comedy flick Ferris Bueller’s Day Off managed to succinctly explain a 1986 version of why.
The economy’s bottom falling out would be a catastrophe Trump would presumably blame on anyone cast as his negative image—women, non-whites, poor people, those beyond U.S. borders in the supposed here be dragons lands—and leverage as pseudo-justification for further wrecking-ball powers, much of which the Reorganizing Government Act would legalize.
Akin to Hoover’s years of championing the idea until presidential reorganization authority became for the first time a real prerogative—and in his hands—Trump could claim that, to fix economic and other problems of his own making, Congress should grant him extreme powers, among them unmatched reorganization authority. It’s quite possible his allies would continue to paint it as nothing unusual, perhaps “not fit for camera” and along the lines of second-phase “boxology”—if they justify the authority to the public any more than the little they did at the Mar. 25 Oversight session.
Given such pessimisticprecedents, it’s worth reiterating that Congress has denied presidents the optional reorganization authority for the last four decades and counting.
Vanderbilt University political science professor David E. Lewis, an expert on presidents and the bureaucracy, told me that “In the late 1980s, as the Cold War was ending and the peace dividend beginning, Congress pursued military cuts on their own. They created a commission—the Commission on Base Realignment and Closure—to recommend changes and made themselves vote the recommendation up or down with no amendments allowed. Congress did not need the president to help them improve efficiency via structural changes. They did it themselves.”
Reorganizing the response: extra material about Federalist 51
Standing in the Oval Office on Feb. 11, Musk gave a muddled half-hour speech groping toward political philosophy as his five year old, X Æ A-Xii, rubbedboogers on the Resolute Desk and whispered to a scowling Trump sitting behind it: “You are not the president and you need to go away.”
Musk said that to understand the “whole point of democracy”—according to the FOIA-dodger, it’s being “responsive to the people”—we should imagine “ask[ing] the founders” as if they were alive today. Without specifying any founders or what they said, Musk then criticized the bureaucracy as an unelected fourth branch usurping democratic rule. The Consumer Financial Protection Bureau he seeks to “Delete” would likely qualify as such a bureaucracy in his eyes, though that may have more to do with the consumer-protecting independent regulators’ jurisdiction over his companies Tesla and xAI, probably a conflict of interest for DOGE, than it does with anything approaching political philosophy.
Besides claiming the bureaucracy overpowers voters and Congress—a set of debatable, multifaceted questions, to which he simply asserted an axiomatic answer—Musk didn’t address the Constitution’s separation of powers.
Yet “Publius” did, in 1788.
“Publius” was the pseudonym of the founder—almost certainly James Madison, Bill of Rights champion and later, fourth president—who in Federalist 51 argued for ratifying the Constitution. He explained how the core document, if treated as more than mere magic paper, can defend “liberty” by preventing, or at least forestalling, power-grabs by any of the three branches that might aspire to tyranny. That’s a risk inherent to expansive reorganization authority given to presidents who enjoy compliant Congresses.
Each branch, Publius wrote, “should have a will of its own” with members “as little dependent as possible” on the others. Although the Constitution permits Congress to delegate powers such as reorg. authority to presidents—much as lawmakers may delegate certain other powers to various agents, say, to independent regulators, the task of ascertaining abstruse particulars of complicated regulations—if Congress hands over too much, it risks losing its own will.
In a famous line, Publius wrote that the secret to maintaining the separation of powers is this: “Ambition must be made to counteract ambition.” Congressional ambition to guard its own turf and expertly will its own authority can counteract presidential ambition to apotheosis.
While certainly imperfect, ambition counteracting ambition is a formula leaps and bounds away from Rep. Tim Burchett’s “fully support[ing] any effort that allows President Trump to make government more efficient.” But the Republican from Tennessee isn’t the only one giving himself over to The Donald.
Such toadyism to an autocrat aspirant emerges from right-wing ideologies, among their ideologues Christian Nationalists and Silicon Valley adherents of the “TESCREAL” variety pack of beliefs that often uphold sci-fi-style eugenics.
Crucially, the ideologies mostly unite against another point in Federalist 51: in “republican”—that is, kingless—”government,” Publius wrote, “the legislative authority, necessarily, predominates.”
Most predominant and consequential of the ideologies may be the neo-reactionary movement (NRx)—also called the Dark Enlightenment—which puts an outright despotic bow on the others.
Maximalist unitary executive theory from both Bush 43 and Trump
President George W. Bush was, like top Trumpers now, pushing maximalist unitary executive theory: flex the presidency by bending or breaking the Constitution, and the failed legislation for giving Bush 43 reorganization authority should be seen in that context. Of course, advocates of maximalist unitary executive theory would say they’re simply using the Constitution’s second article to the fullest. For a contemporary statement of the viewpoint, see Project 2025’s Mandate for Leadership policy agenda guidebook drafted by the conservative Heritage Foundation think tank. They don’t use the concept of monarchy, but maximalist unitary executive theory certainly has the effect of facilitating the far-right project of getting the country there.
Soft coup to benefit foreign foes: National Labor Relations Board whistleblower Daniel Berulis
Berulis described DOGE arriving at the NLRB’s D.C. headquarters on Mar. 3 in a police-escorted black SUV to procure highly-privileged accounts on NLRB systems. Soon after, attempts to log in from Russia with those same credentials were geo-blocked, but followed by the DOGE accounts siphoning away reams of sensitive data to U.S.-based servers—final destinations unknown.
Per his lawyer, Berulis was threatened a week prior to filing his sworn whistleblower declaration: an unexplained note mentioning his then-forthcoming disclosure—complete with drone photos of Berulis walking his dog—was taped up on his home door.
In February, Senate Minority Leader Chuck Schumer (D-NY) called DOGE a “shadow government,” a “hostile takeover,” and “part of a troubling pattern of Russian and Chinese Communist sympathizers increasing their influence on American foreign policy.”
U.S. statutes and federal regulations both formally identity, among others, the People’s Republic of China and the Russian Federation as foreign adversaries of the United States.
Misty Hampton in the Coffee County elections office with the silver laptop, Feb. 22, 2021
Note: All four surveillance images in this post, previously unpublished, are published here for the first time.
Today the Daily Dot published my new investigative article, entitled EXCLUSIVE: A missing laptop could be key to prosecuting Trump. This rural Georgia county only recently admitted that it exists. Prior to publication, I worked on it for about half a year.
Some material was cut to make the article shorter and more focused on the missing silver laptop.
However, of the cut passages, I can post below as paragraphs in a bullet-point list the ones that are, in my view, urgent and important. Think of them as DVD extras showing you deleted scenes from the theatrical release.
To be serious, I believe it might help residents of Coffee County—in the swing state of Georgia—as well as interested people elsewhere to have access to this information immediately. Without further ado:
Here’s a summary of the breach by the federal judge presiding over Curling v. Raffensperger, Amy Totenberg in the Northern District of Georgia.
For her account of the intrusions, Totenberg drew on cybersecurity experts’ declarations—including their review of computer forensics and the surveillance footage—in a Nov. 10, 2023 ruling: the breach included “various individuals and entities (1) providing and gaining unauthorized access to Coffee County voting equipment, data, and software over the course of multiple dates; (2) copying, downloading, and imaging the County’s equipment, data, and software; (3) uploading and sharing that data and software on the internet via a file-sharing website; and (4) further distributing physical copies of forensic voting material downloaded from Coffee County.” (Online distribution was via private access, not public internet.)
Some, notably Coffee breach-funding lawyer and onetime Trump lieutenant Sidney Powell, who has pleaded guilty, have tried to justify the intrusions by claiming the elections board approved the electronic collection of the computers’ contents. They offer insufficient documentation to support this claim; further, no board quorum has ever been found to have authorized copying the elections data nor does the security video show any quorum in the elections office during the breach. In a deposition, then-Board of Elections chair Wendell Stone denied that the board gave permission to examine their systems. The civil disobedience or altruism arguments sometimes made are undercut by the plundered proprietary voting software, almost three years later, having never reached the public, nor rival political campaigns, only the breachers’ allies, as far as can be determined.
If the subpoenas lawsuit is successful, it might spell out why the county’s public statements, which have focused on Hampton, have been so careful not to mention by name then-elections board member Eric Chaney, who was caught on film participating in the breach. “I didn’t do anything without the direction of Eric Chaney,” Hampton said in deposition. The plaintiffs in the subpoenas case go further, saying Chaney, who has not been charged, “warned Ms. Hampton of her impending termination the evening before” and characterizing him as a “key participant[] in planning and executing the breach.”
A letter that counsel for the plaintiffs in the subpoenas case sent to county attorneys in April and filed this month argues that crucial Eric Chaney-related records were improperly withheld by county manager Wesley Vickers and senior county lawyer Tony Rowell, a pair multiple interviewees described to me as the area’s de facto diarchy.
Examples of how the lawyers seem to have more power than the people they represent:
Listening to their lawyer Ben Perkins discuss legal issues at their Nov. 14 meeting, every elections board member said they were not informed of the desktop seizure before it happened, which he told them their then-underling, former election supervisor Rachel Roberts, had been involved in. Ernestine Thomas-Clark, who has long sat on the board, asked the lawyer to clarify how they could in theory terminate him when they hadn’t hired him. Fireable like any board vendor, Perkins was retained by county manager Vickers this June—an appointment some members have described as appearing out of nowhere one day, without their input or vote, something Perkins acknowledged in the meeting. Except for the two initial Oct. 24 motions, he has provided lawsuit filings to board members only when asked, according to board members who told me such requests were rare.
Surveillance footage—procured by Coalition for Good Governance despite months of Coffee claiming it had been irrevocablylost— shows senior county lawyer Tony Rowell in December 2020 meetings with people who would go on to participate in the breach. The plaintiffs’ analysis of the video shows that prior to the intrusions, Rowell spent hours and hours in the elections office with, among others, Misty Hampton, Eric Chaney, Ed Voyles, and Cathy Latham. Voyles, who has not been charged in the Georgia-Trump RICO case, chaired the elections board two years prior to the meetings. Latham, like Hampton a Trump co-defendant who has pleaded not guilty, chaired the Coffee Republican party at the time of the intrusions. Also a Trump fake elector (imposter in the Electoral College process), Latham was in a position to have possibly connected Coffee County with MAGA D.C. shortly before the breach.
Misty Hampton, Ed Voyles, and holding the coffee mug, Tony Rowell, in the elections office, Dec. 3, 2020
Ed Voyles (seated), Eric Chaney, Tony Rowell (holding cup) in elections office, Dec. 10, 2020
The Coffee County Commissioners, almost never mentioned in discussions on the breach and the most powerful county executives under law, have the ability to fire their vendor Hall Booth Smith—including Tony Rowell—and county manager Vickers, though not Oliver Maner (the elections board’s vendor for legal services). I repeatedly contacted all five commissioners with questions on the subpoenas lawsuit and a CCTV still of the silver laptop, asking if they’re satisfied with the performance of the county’s de facto diarchy. County commissioner Jimmy Kitchens told me “I have no comment”; county commissioner Oscar Paulk deferred to legal counsel Tony Rowell. The other three commissioners never responded.
In Judge Totenberg’s same Nov. 10, 2023 ruling, she concisely addressed the underexamined cybersecurity plight of state voting systems and the possible ripple effects of the breach: “The importance of the security, reliability, and functionality of state election systems, classified by the U.S. Homeland Security Department as critical national infrastructure, cannot be overstated in a world where cybersecurity challenges have exponentially increased in the last decade. The dynamics of how a breach in one part of a cyber system may potentially carry cybersecurity reverberations for the entire system for years to come exemplifies the important concerns raised in this case.”
The Curling v. Raffensperger plaintiffs seek to force the swing state of Georgia to (on the vote capture side) abandon mandatory electronic ballots and in most circumstances use hand-marked paper ones, that will (on the vote tallying side) still be scanned by computers but always audited.
The GBI report (critique; critique) omits reference to the silver Hewlett Packard altogether and instead, any laptops it mentions are either nondescript or an old black Toshiba. Their report acknowledges that the Toshiba had last been used in 2015—the Obama era, and thus not relevant to the breach, the run-up to it, or the aftermath, except as a red herring that the county many times brought up in place of the silver laptop.
Also per the GBI report, in August 2022, surrounded by three of his lawyers—including Rowell of the de facto diarchy—recently resigned elections board chair Wendell Stone refused to participate when the Bureau tried to interview him in person. Then, making his public statement in June 2023, Stone promised “transparent” elections to the locals in front of him—but did not share that eight days earlier, the GBI had seized their elections office desktop.
Local lawyer Jim Hudson’s proposal for independent and possibly pro bono counsel and the idea of asking the Department of Justice for help are not necessarily mutually exclusive. Hudson’s idea, while nebulous to some ears, at best would allow those most affected by the intrusions—Coffee voters—to participate in a bottom-up inquiry into all aspects of the breach and its aftermath, aided by the independent counsel and able to notify the Justice Department of any criminality discovered. The Department of Justice, by contrast, boasts multistate range and federal muscle, but without a strong defense of the local public interest in place, they would risk being seen, fairly or not, as just another set of politicized outsiders, at worst sparking more resentment than repair.
A November poll in the New York Times shows Trump ahead of President Joe Biden in five of six battleground states, including Georgia. Legally, nothing prevents an incarcerated individual from running for president, nor indeed, from serving as president. However, the Supreme Court might affirm state or local officials disqualifying Trump due to his inciting of the Jan.6 auto-coup attempt. If not, my guess is, Mar-a-Lago house arrest would be set up for such a presidency.
My final two paragraphs from an earlier iteration of the article:
With bold leadership missing like a silver laptop, jitters about the GBI or other law enforcement behind every Eastern red cedar—paranoid or justified—proliferate; simultaneously, the known extent of the Trumpers’ multistate breach plot grows, reminding voters from coast to coast that their jurisdiction could have been hit. “Scared to death” Matthew McCullough, fulminating against the Georgia Bureau of Investigation, must not be the only Coffee County official afraid “to go to jail.”
Aside from the immense force of the breach records lawsuit and its costs, it seems the only way the county’s status quo will change is if the region’s residents, perhaps in conjunction with the DOJ, perhaps aided by Hudson’s vision for independent counsel, reshape the area’s stepped landscape of power themselves. The Trump era cannot be locked up by any prosecutor, nor can it be compartmentalized away with the click of a television remote—the healing of truth and reconciliation would be more realistic. Cyber–vulnerable Election 2024 is less than a year away. Self-governance requires effort.
Misty Hampton with the silver laptop in the elections office, Dec. 15, 2020
This blog post, Extra material for my Daily Dot investigative article about Coffee County, Georgia missing laptop likely relevant to Curling and Trump cases, by Douglas Lucas, is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-ShareAlike 4.0 International License (summary). The license is based on the work at this URL: https://douglaslucas.com/blog/2023/12/19/extra-material-dailydot-investigative-article-laptop/. You can find the full license (the legalese) here. To learn more about Creative Commons, I suggest this article and the Creative Commons Frequently Asked Questions. Please feel free to discuss this post (or the underlying article) in the comments section below, but if you’re seeking permissions beyond the scope of the license, or want to correspond with me about this post (or the article) one on one, email me: dal@riseup.net. And gimme all your money!
Note: In 2022, I’m once again writing 52 blog entries, posted every Sunday. Flash fiction by me will soon arrive weekly too, by February, after I finish figuring out the tech details of where precisely on this website I might place itso you can conveniently leave comments.
Trash can lid got wrecked; image sent, as explained below, to the Something Corporation
In that post, I explained techniques to save money, such as cold-calling companies and asking for a discount. That, in my own experience, can yield exasperated annoyance from customer service staff at one extreme, and at the opposite extreme, third-off coupon codes good forever. Another great idea is to join (or start!) your local Food Not Bombs chapter, where long-term volunteers frequently have brilliant ideas for grabbing free grub, among them identifying which restaurants share surplus food, locating which dumpsters offer scavenging divers the best cuisine, and more.
Today I’d like to tell you about this one time I got something for zero bucks from a corporation. Except it ain’t fancy feast.
Time for the trash can
Mainlain that meme truth
The Internet of Things is the market segment for turning everyday consumer objects into online gizmos. If you fondly sing the praises of CRT televisions—no, not Critical Race Theory TVs, I mean Cathode Ray Tube ones—because they work unfailingly for half a century, and you correctly cast insults down upon giant flat-screen televisions that cost thousands but don’t work since they suddenly require downloading a patch from Samsung or some other corp, then you too know the pitfalls of the Internet of Shit.
Gizmo-ification of everything even extends to trash cans. Of course, finding a trash can for your kitchen at the thrift store is the best! But at embarrassing moments, I’ve dragged myself into awful domestic big box stores such as Bed Bath and Beyond (beyond … where?). Those shameful moments when I’ve been absolutely convinced I immediately need a towel of a certain color or some stupidity like that. Besides punishing shoppers with in-store video advertising so loud you can hear it clear across the building, a nightmare retailer of this type will showcase for you the very latest in consumerist horror.
Yes, I mean today’s trash cans, the Internet-equipped ones you can talk to.
Let’s get something straight. Such technology can be important for people with disabilities and for other situations that may not leap to the minds of the privileged. I’m all for such innovations and would love to hear about them in the comments. Lemme know if I’m wrong, but I somehow doubt the trash cans at Bed Bath and Beyoncé are the ideal options for such scenarios. And yeah, maybe a USian with a disability—like, say, infatuation—is driven to go to Bed Bath and BayBey because the legit need to impress a love interest has somehow got twisted into the anxiety-laden, bonkers idea that it all hinges on having that towel of the exact right color. We’ve all been there, mutatis mutandis, right?
Gotta save money betterez now, because reasons, i.e., ladies first
That said, before discussing saving money on a trash can, let’s by all means inspect a newfangled, expensive trash can that talks.
Oh Goddess, please (don’t ever) trash me
Witness, if you will, the 58 liter, dual compartment, voice-activated, motion-capable, stainless steel—excuse me, make that brushed stainless steel—trash can a California-based company lovingly crafted just for o̶u̶r̶ ̶w̶a̶l̶l̶e̶t̶s̶ us.
“This is the evolution of 20 years of science and technology, bringing you the best of the best” in trash
Our world-class instance of talking trash above has on Amazon 5 stars after more than 10,000 reviews, which, the way things are headed, I may be adding to soon enough myself as a drunk but giggling ghostwriter. For the uninitiated, that’s writing fake reviews for dough, Mac. Gotta fund unpaid/underpaid human rights investigative journalism and random musings somehow, for example, with donations from people who have $200 trash cans and a sense of humor.
A three-star Amazon review by the mononymous, TP-astute Paul sounds, to be conciliatory, fair and balanced:
I love everything but the fact that you can not turn off the voice sensor. I play music in the background all day. The can open when it hears something close to “open can” in the music. And it happens alot. It will wear out real fast. There is no switch to turn off the voice sensor and keep the motion senor on. I can not find a microphone hole to plug it with tissue paper as a hack to fix the issue.
The $200 price tag does not include tax, nor your crucial rush-speed shipping and handling. And don’t forget the recurring expense of the bespoke liners—admittedly featuring swank double-seam construction and an even swankier perfect fit, to be sure—for which you’re gonna need to liquidate your entire cryptocoin portfolio.
By the way, California’s top-tier trash can company is called: simplehuman.
News you can use: today’s token-saving tip
As the renowned economist Snoop Dogg suggested implicitly in his scholarly, NSFW treatise Drop It Like It’s Hot—ticking my tongue like said rapper when that song came out in 2004, I practiced its beat on my shower wall for cumulative hours and hours, not knowing myself to someday become an aspiring if reluctant ace businessman aiming for European citizenship plus frugal trash cans—a scientific study (reportedly) shows handling cash is like snorting coke, and probably only partly because many dolla dolla bills are themselves contaminated with traces of cocaine. Illustrating unSnoopy high diction, the scientists of the latter link write dryly:
The contamination may occur through direct contact during drug trafficking with the same people handling the cocaine powder and the money; or rolling up the banknote for sniffing the powder through the tube formed.
[link added, obviously]
If subject matter experts reading this know the (likely news-savvy) researchers in question are lacking in scientific integrity and are as desperate for clicks as DJ Snoopadelic (and freelance bloggers), then please, correct me in the comments. Hiphop historians, I admit, I’m curious about The Snoopzilla’s personal trash can …
Anyhow, another way to ask corporations for freebies is to amuse them.
For example, this past week, akin to fond memories of Julia Child a century ago corresponding with her faraway penpal via slow snailmail across the Atlantic, I corresponded, via chat with support agent, with some outsource contractor as bored as I was. I needed to know if my auto insurance provided roadside assistance at no or minimal additional charge. I forget how it started, but she typed a lol; I sent a <3. I asked if her roadside assistance coverage included all of North America. “Yes, it covers the United States,” she said, PR-perfect. Hmm, I said, how about Mars? “That would cost millions to get your car up there,” she said, “and it would cost us millions to get our tow truck up there, so no :)” How about Jupiter, I inquired. She and I left it there—sorry, no wedding to invite you to—out of my perhaps overly cautious reticence, not wanting to creep out a random employee accidentally, though in my experience, internet customer service agents appreciate this sort of thing as an escape from raging Karens. And, to the point, they’ll not infrequently become far more helpful and suddenly drop, as though its temperature has been heated, a discount code. (Don’t try this, incels; learn how to take a shower first, then baby-steps from there.)
Sup, I gotta question too, ’bout those docs you dropped, Doc
In terms of trash cans, not too long after the latest pandemic hit Seattle, I tripped over my trash can lid—which was on the floor from, essentially, pandemic stress incl. my unpaid/underpaid researching of the good DHHS whistleblower Dr Rick Bright (where the rest of those exhibits, Doc? Beware testing the patience of this otherwise supportive-of-you indie journalist, not to mention bewaring the possibility of a forthcoming appeal, after which comes a lawsuit in a summons carriage, where my pro bono lawyers at?). The lid broke. I despaired of buying or even finding another such flawless trash can. That beaut was dirt cheap, yet supplied all my funky kitchen needs. It didn’t have WiFi. And best of all, I didn’t need to talk to it, and it didn’t try to talk to me.
Thus, hoping for a free lid, I typed a politely obsequious message into the website of the Something Corporation, clicked submit, and promptly forgot about it. I don’t want to name the corp, lest I be accused of doing product placement—this is my real name byline website, where I aim to give you the truth, not my ghostwriting hack jobs, which hey, if you want those, email me at dal@riseup.net, yo! And let’s face it, I don’t think the Something Corporation wants to be on my blog, either, where I recommend dat research shizzle showing which corporate actors are connected to which others, etc. As for simplehuman, fuck them.
Here’s a slightly redacted version of what I sent on an April 2020 Friday:
Exact image for the exacting, sent by me to the Something Corporation
Dear [Something Corp],
About 2-3 months ago, I bought my black [Something] trash can #xxxx at a small hardware store here in Seattle. I can try to find the receipt if you need it. I’ve been really excited about your product because not only did I not want a flimsy cheap trash can, I also didn’t want some ridiculously expensive voice-activated trash can either. I do not need to talk with my trash can! Yours is Just Right and fits my kitchen perfectly.
However, yesterday, due to covid19 stress my kitchen was a mess with random stuff lying all over the tiled floor, including the black lid to your #xxxx black trash can (don’t ask). Then I, while cooking, tripped and fell, like something out of slapstick, sending olive oil flying everywhere and my foot landing on your trash can lid, breaking it, including cracking pieces and everything. Sad face!
So I’m wondering if you could sell me a black #xxxx trash can lid independently of the lower section of the trash can. I took 3 quick pictures and stuck them on my website to show you what I mean, see links below. 1 of 3 shows the #xxxx black lower trash can body, which is still standing completely fine where it should be, just now sadly bereft of a lid. 2 of 3 shows the broken lid on the floor, complete with olive oil goo all over it. 3 of 3 shows the impressive damage I managed to do while falling, breaking off that black piece of the lid.
1 of 3: [deleted]
2 of 3: [deleted]
3 of 3: [deleted]
[…]
Soooooooooo how much would you charge me for just the black lid thingie to go on top of my black #xxxx, to replace my broken lid? How would payment be processed and so on?
Thank you very much,
Imagine my grateful surprise when on the following Monday I received a response. Behind the 1950s corporate mask of a writing style, you can almost see the employee (not a contractor, judging by his email addy) laughing, or at least smiling, as he beneficently elects to exercise mercy on behalf of the nonhuman Something Corporation:
Dear Douglas,
Thank you for contacting [Something Corporation].
Thank you for the images. As a general practice, [Something Corporation] does not provide replacement parts as products are manufactured and are sold as a unit.
However, as a onetime courtesy I have arranged to pull one lid from production. Delivery might take up to 14 days via UPS ground […]
Sincerely,
First M. Last Something Corporation E-mail: FLast@Something.com
“pull one lid from production” … I’ve always wondered what happened to the rest of that particular trash can, its lid perhaps raised away on a forklift-plus-pincer by a burly Joycean laborer and, like a commodity out of Das Kapital Volume 2, transported and transported, ultimately to land on the doorstep of my wizardly Seattle high castle. Maybe it’s at, if not Snoop Dogg’s, then First M. Last’s house.
In trash canclusion
Radicals made bitter sometimes assume corporations and their outsource contractor firms to be full of evil enemies. They are! But also, they’re full of bored people who might hate their CEOs more than radicals do. And besides, people aren’t static blocks. They might be an evil enemy in the morning, a bored boss by the afternoon, and a true hero in the night. And so on. Ideological purity doesn’t generate prosocial change—it’s at best just a stopgap measure that makes our social/emotional pain and uncomfortable questions go away … for the short run.
And besides, you really wanna save money on trash cans? Use old grocery bags. Even the smartest of us are sometimes stupid and in need of the genius obvious.
Today Salon published my and Amy O’Neal’s new article, “Portrait of a failed president: Inside the art of George W. Bush.” As is usual in this industry, they made some changes. So, some extra text and images here for you.
Below are the images buried in the article’s slideshow. (Except for Felipe Calderón, whose portrait I took a picture of, the images come from TheBushCenter’s Flickr.)
Portrait of Tony Blair
Portrait of the Dalai Lama
Portrait of Felipe Calderón
Exhibit wall
While Vladimir Putin’s false-flag bombings of his own Moscow remained in, George H.W. Bush’s connection to the JFK assassination came out. Here’s that text:
He once said he didn’t remember where he was when John F. Kennedy was assasinated, which is like saying you don’t remember where you were when Apollo 11 landed on the moon or the twin towers came down. As journalist Russ Baker’s thorough book Family of Secrets reveals, Poppy was actually in Dallas the day before and probably the morning of November 22, 1963, when military intelligence figures led Kennedy’s motorcade to its fate. Poppy was also a friend of George de Mohrenschildt, Lee Harvey Oswald’s handler, and closely tied to Allen Dulles, whom JFK removed from the CIA directorship. Not to mention Poppy’s ties to Texas oil barons whose tax breaks JFK wanted to end. Draw your own conclusions about this “gentle soul.”
Also I want to note that Bush raised more than half a billion dollars for the complex. Presidents raise money for their libraries while in office (as well as after), which means the fundraising is an opportunity for influence to be exerted. Even foreign leaders can give sitting presidents secret donations for their libraries.
Whoa, I just earned actual money by writing and self-publishing fiction without an agent or a publisher or an editor or an acquisitions editor. Without any other gatekeeper. The point of this post isn’t the handful (or less) of euros, but another anecdote supporting the march toward what might well be a new paradigm for publishing.
I’ve received fan mail for the story; again, this is not to brag, but to point out that netizens actually read and enjoyed the piece without mediators between them and me. (Artistically, critiquers helped me, of course; and, there are Dreamhost and Flattr and other web companies/organizations, plus the overhead cost of running this website. So in a very loose sense there are, if not mediators, connectors.)
The license allows readers to share (copy) and remix (adapt; e.g., translate) the story so long as they do so on a noncommercial basis, give my name and my story attribution & linkage, and license any remix/adaptation they make similarly. In other words, share the story all you want, freely, and do something cool with it, unless it involves plagiarism or making money. (If you’re Hollywood, email me.)
Yeah, download the short story, the whole thing, and toss a few coins in the tip jar on my digital street corner here where I’m being your bard.
I think magazines and publishing houses are still very necessary. They provide authors with infrastructure for, say, interviews and book tours, among other functions. (After all, most artist types aren’t the greatest biz folk at promoting themselves.) Houses help readers choose between fiction based on reputation. They connect authors with communities and with editors — though tons of editors are already freelancing outside the umbrellas of publishing houses. AND magazines and publishers still have bigger bullhorns than many websites (including mine), bigger wallets than micro-donaters, and they typically bestow more credibility (for opportunities such as speaking gigs) than self-publications. So, sure, I definitely still want to get a bunch of stories past gatekeepers. They’re not all bad or anything!
But the bottom line: in order to connect with readers and score some pocket change, I won’t have to have gatekeepers’ approval. Not anymore. Score one for the Internet.
I'm a Texas-born, Seattle-based freelance writer/journalist currently living in Chiapas, México. Published at Rolling Stone, Foreign Policy, Salon, WhoWhatWhy, the Texas Observer, the Daily Dot, others. I write about anything and everything, but usually current events meets investigative journalism and philosophy; liberatory mental health; education; science fiction and fantasy; technology; justice; more. Also a former public ed substitute teacher.
Email: DAL@RISEUP.NET (ask for pgp key or check keyservers if you want encryption)
Snailmail (United States Postal Service only): Douglas Lucas / PO Box 75656 / Seattle WA 98175 / United States
Snailmail (Private carriers such as UPS, Fedex, DHL, Amazon): Douglas Lucas / 11036 8th Ave NE #75656 / Seattle WA 98125 / United States
Note the single-character change in ZIP codes, between the address for USPS (98175) and the address for private carriers (98125), is not a typo.
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